


Aftermath

by pebbles1971



Series: Older and Wiser [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Autistic Character, Childhood Trauma, M/M, Neurodiversity, Nonbinary Character, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Trauma Recovery, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 13:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21447028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbles1971/pseuds/pebbles1971
Summary: Mer McKay deals with the aftermath of being kidnapped and tortured and the process of coming out as non-binary
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Series: Older and Wiser [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286993
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content note for non-graphic allusion to childhood abuse, sexual assault, torture, suicidal thoughts/attempt, ptsd/cptsd. Contains emetophobia and trichotillomania triggers.
> 
> This is a pretty tough story but it pretty much made me write it after I implied rather naively that all would be well after John rescued Mer from their kidnappers in the previous fic. I mean, McKay has *a lot* going on here so cracks were inevitable. This is what I think they'd look like. It's the in-between story before the (really final probably) finale "Back to Earth", which'll be here by Christmas.

‘I know there’s a brain somewhere under all that messy, greying hair but let me spell it out as I would to a three-year-old, Sheppard. I’m not interested in talking about this. I don’t want to talk about Belinda Riley’s never-going-to-happen hearing or your dickhead brother’s connections to the corrupt president of your former country, who probably knew all about my kidnapping. I don’t need to process my fucking feelings about the clusterfuck of it all.’

Mer’s voice is getting louder and shriller by the minute, hurting their own ears. ‘I’m sick of you following me around with those puppy eyes trying to get me to talk like we’re in some made-for-TV movie. Just fuck off and let me work.’

Mer waves a dismissive hand and John flinches. His age-lined eyes widen and brighten with hurt. Mer senses his pain from across the room but simply watches passively as John turns on his heels and makes a hasty exit. And then Mer sinks down at their desk, head in hands.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

The other inner voice, the one that seems to be getting louder and louder lately, says, _you’re such a screw up, Rodney, you should just kill yourself._

That’s the answer to everything lately. Spilled milk? _Kill yourself_. Simulation error? _Kill yourself. _Barely talking to the love of your life? _Kill your fucking self, Rodney._

The voice of Mer’s self-loathing also takes great delight in deadnaming them, just to add ground glass to the toxic stew. They’ve been _Mer_ to pretty much everyone in Atlantis since they came back from captivity on Earth a full Lantean season ago, but this part of themself shows cold derision for their attempts to be more honest about their gender.

To have got back to John when it seemed beyond hope was a miracle. And then to have found total acceptance for a part of themself that Mer had long kept hidden. At first, that had seemed like the greatest prize of all. And yet Mer is throwing it all away wilfully, every day sabotaging and unravelling the beautiful life the two of them have made. As if two months of separation and grief had not hurt John enough, Mer has pushed and pushed him away over the quarter-year they’ve been back, unable to stop.

They shake their head, trying to refocus on work, but they haven’t slept for – what, three days? Haven’t even tried for two. And the motor on their aging laptop is loud, seriously loud and nothing is working as it should.

Things are disintegrating into a mess that’s way past being fixable.

_Don’t even try, just kill yourself, prick._

***

‘Rodney, I know what it’s like tae come back from the dead. Would ye not like to talk about it?’ Carson’s blue eyes were brimming with a concern that made Mer feel distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Mer,’ they corrected, trying not to sound snappish but unsure if they succeeded. They were jittery today; the command tower cafeteria was noisier than usual with the clink of cutlery on plates and the hiss of voices. It was a sensory assault to their autistic ears, especially when they were stressed.

‘What? Oh. Sorry Mer, I’m really trying –’

‘I know, I know. Look, I don’t like doing this autocorrect thing all the time but trust me, it’ll work better in the long term. Remember with Colleen? Well, she probably did it with more grace than me but still . . .’ Colleen Healey had been John’s PA since he first took the deputy leader role in 2014, back when they were still on Earth time. She’d transitioned two years later, taken a year’s sabbatical back in Ireland to access healthcare not available in Pegasus (at least not after the downfall of Sateda, Hoff and Oleisia), married her childhood sweetheart and returned to Atlantis with her, glowing and happy and possibly even more scarily efficient than she had been before.

Remembering that aura of joy chipped away at Mer – _this is supposed to make you happy. _While it was true that coming out as non-binary had been exhilarating at the time, even amid the fear of impending death, Mer had lost touch with that spark – lately they felt flat and disconnected.

Carson put his hand over Mer’s. ‘You’re doing just fine, Mer.’

‘Huh. Jeannie used to say “fine” stands for Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotionally unavailable.’ While they were ticking along and slotting back into Lantean life more or less smoothly, and people were being mostly great about the non-binary thing, something was off.

‘Okaay. Is that how it is with you, Mer?’ More concern in those blue eyes, and it made Mer wince.

‘Maybe,’ they said carefully. ‘You came back a clone . . . I’ve come back a ghost,’ Mer sighed. Alarm bells went off in their head, shrieking at them not to go down the road of trying to pin down or talk about the uneasy emptiness they were feeling.

‘That does nae sound good, Mer.’

‘It’s fine, everything’s fine, I just don’t feel . . .’

‘Real? Connected? Substantial?’

Mer nodded.

‘That’s trauma, Mer, it’s not nice, but it is normal. It will get easier, you know.’ The doctor’s aging face was patient, compassionate, and Mer didn’t want that at all.

Mer wanted to scream, in fact. They were so sick of hearing about how it would get better, as if that just magically happened rather than involving a ton of painful work they didn’t know how to do. Were terrified of doing. Weren’t ready to do.

‘Have you talked to John and Ronon? They must understand what you’re going through.’

_They’ve both experienced torture_, being the unspoken conclusion to that sentence.

‘Too well – they switch between looking terrified for me and breezily reminding me how it’s just another mission to get through together. Only they’re fucking warriors and I’m a coward and the only one who can do this is me. Except I can’t. Fuck, my nine-year-old daughter is better at this than I am.’

Mer ran a hand through their wavy, thinning locks, tugging at the soft, greying strands that fell down over their ears. It had become one of their most popular stims, playing with their hair. On bad days they pulled hard at the hair behind their ears and the back of their neck, soothed by the pain of it, but they hadn’t got back into pulling it out entirely like they had as a kid (until their mother had given them a buzz cut to stop the habit, another thing Mer had been bullied for).

‘You do yerself down, Mer.’ Carson broke through the spiralling thoughts. ‘You’ve worked hard in therapy over the years. You don’t have to do it right now, there’s no road map for recovery but the ones we make ourselves, but Dr Kirkland will be there when you need him. In the meantime, mebbe I can give you a prescription to help with the sleep?’

‘This was supposed to be lunch, not a consultation, Carson.’

‘Was it? Well, if you think that, perhaps you could keep your appointments, Mer.’

Mer pushed their meatloaf aside for the comfort of blue jello. They ate in silence, but something in the back of their head was yelling and screaming and they decided there and then they were going to have to work much, much harder at avoiding conversations like this if they were going to stay sane.

*******

It’s like watching someone else take over their body. And they know what that’s like, thanks to Cadman. Only this body snatcher is someone Mer has a long and close acquaintance with. They can see themself almost wilfully looking for ways to make a bad situation worse, trying to find the exact thing to say to push people away and magnify hurt that was bad enough already. And yet they can’t seem to stop. Sleep deprivation has nudged them over the edge into full-tilt self-destruct mode.

Not that they haven’t always been an over-achiever in that area.

It’s almost too frightening to pull out of it, like smashing everything up is somehow safer than some scary alternative Mer won’t even let themself think about.

_Coward. Ronon faced the destruction of his people and seven years as a runner. Even Selin’s faced worse than you and managed to not be an asshole about it. John said it, when you got back – PTSD is survivable, only you’re not surviving, are you? You’re weak, Rodney. You should just end this and put everyone out of the misery of having you around. _The inner voice is relentless, but it’s making more and more sense every day.

_You know they’re all wondering why the hell they missed you, right?_

It’s been bad like this before, and Mer feels the maelstrom of feelings picking up past fuck-ups and the ensuing breakdowns to add to the present debris. Every bit of evidence that Mer can’t be trusted to manage a decent approximation of humanity parades itself through their brain. Jo-anne Baylis in the first year of their first PhD . . . Teal’c stuck in the Stargate . . . Doranda.

_It’s your thing, dickhead. You try to impress people with your genius and it never works. Mostly it makes people hate you. Like Jo-anne Bayliss hated you, like the whole of the fucking SGC hated you when you tried so hard to prove to them how clever you are and imagine that, they were looking for courage, humanity, compassion, not a heartless android._

Their mind relentlessly circles past humiliations and their current, daily fuckups. Every now and then it slinks towards their sociopathic kidnapper Belinda Riley and the hearing that keeps getting postponed, the background investigations that Teyla doesn’t always see fit to share. Every now and then Mer shivers at the thought of how powerless they had been in the hold of that spaceship, and after, in Riley’s clutches.

_Oh look at me, I’m a poor little victim. No you’re not, Rodney, you’re an asshole and pretty much everything that goes wrong in your life is your fault._

Huh. It’s almost a relief to skip their mind back to the fuck-ups that they had some agency over. Doranda is their favourite, the one that caused the greatest destruction in both physical and emotional terms.

_Were you trying to impress John or actually trying to fuck everything up? Do you even know? Did you mean to kill him? Because it’s a miracle you didn’t._

Something about the events around Doranda nags at them, crawling inside their gut like insects. Mer thought they had processed Doranda in therapy long ago. Had understood how conflicting parts of them were self-sabotaging and trying to impress people they desperately wanted approval from. Same thing happened over Teal’c, of course.

Later, Heightmeyer had helped them realise that something like combat stress had crept up on them after the wraith siege and all that went before. This at least partly contributed to the mess they got themself into. Cadman, too, had contributed something to their destabilisation. Mer shivers thinking about Cadman in their body, and shakes it away, as they always do. Even John had played his part in messing with Mer’s feelings, though looking back, Mer had also messed with John’s feelings by asking out Katie Brown.

But Mer isn’t that emotionally constipated dickhead anymore.

_Except you really, really are, jerk. You always come back here. No matter how far you think you’ve come, this is always here waiting. Which is why you should just throw in the towel._

Mer has nurtured thoughts of suicide as far back as they can remember. Always has it as an option, just in case. Like the Dread Pirate Roberts’ “I’ll most likely kill you in the morning” it has been oddly comforting to know that if things get too hard, there are always at least a half dozen fool proof plans for checking out.

Lately, the mere fact that they are thinking about abandoning John and Selin only makes Mer feel more and more worthless, more and more like following through. Their head buzzes with self-hate and they can’t seem to get themself off this track.

_You should never have come home. _

Thoughts spiral back to the person Mer used to be when they first came to the SGC, struggling with undiagnosed autism and desperate insecurity and just plain being a jerk to everyone. That was also a time when the “kill yourself” voice had been strong. The Venn diagram between times they’ve been the biggest asshole and times they’ve been at their most suicidal is a perfect circle. This isn’t lost on them.

_You’re a humungous asshole lately – this must mean you’re ready to actually go through with it, right?_

***

Priya and Chanis had taken an airy apartment together on Atlantis and Mer was pretty sure they were quietly getting it on, but they were oddly discreet about it considering they were shacked up together. Nobody minded that the UN envoy to Pegasus and the Pegasus envoy to the UN were so tight, and everyone accepted that Mer, Chanis and Priya would be sticking close together after their ordeal at the hands of their kidnappers. Mer had borne the brunt of it, but that didn’t mean it had been easy for the other two.

Their apartment was as much home to Mer now as Mer’s own. Priya and Chanis were almost as much family as Selin, John and Ronon. Mer tried not to think about how they bounced between the two spaces in ways that were subtly avoidant. Tried not to acknowledge that they were here now because John had cooked _kaljee,_ their favourite Belkan dish, and had looked at Mer with eyes that were kind and soft and expectant and it had damn near sent them hurtling out of their stable orbit.

‘How has the coming out process been, Mer?’ Chanis asked them, because Chanis by now knew safe topics and unsafe ones. Family, John, what happened back on Earth – those things did not get talked about.

Priya and Mer had patiently explained “coming out” to Chanis and it had taken a while for them to get it. No such concept existed in Latiran culture because it had no closets to begin with. Now, Chanis was endlessly curious.

‘Well, considering I only came out at all because I was going to die, and never thought I would be telling anyone but you two, it’s all been remarkably smooth.’

Mer might never have come out at all were it not for the assumed inevitability of imminent death. But when they got back to Atlantis, they found that packing their genderqueerness away again was not an option.

‘That’s good.’

Mer nodded. ‘People trip up, but they try. Only had one dickhead be outright mean about it – told John and I that we weren’t a gay couple any more so had no business being on the LGBT+ forum.’ Their stomach churned when they thought about that, but they tried hard not to.

LGBT+ was another concept they’d had to explain to Chanis – Latirans did not care one jot about who was fucking who, certainly not enough to make special words for certain configurations of relationship. Their word for gender divergence, loosely translated as _both_, was a broad category. It was assumed as a given on Latira that many people were a blend of genders, and because they had no sex segregation and no sense of the importance of male/female differences it wasn’t something they made a big deal over.

‘Oh Mer, that must have hurt the both of you.’ Priya’s tone was outraged, angry, and it made Mer squirm at the way it hooked up feelings in them too. ‘You’ve been such a big part of that group for so long. I can never fathom why someone would be so narrow about who gets to be in queer spaces. I hate those fuckers.’

‘It hurt John,’ Mer decided to avoid thinking about how it affected them personally. ‘Coming out as gay was such a big step in his life, and now he’s no longer with a man it must be weird for him,’ Mer reflected. ‘Not that he’d say so – when I talk to him about it, he just tells me he’s Mer-sexual and that’s all that really matters. But I can’t help feeling I’ve unilaterally changed everything for him.’

‘He loves you, Mer. It’s not about the labels, it’s about the two of you.’

Intellectually, Mer knew Priya was right. John’s love hadn’t changed one little bit. But Mer had.

*******

_You use your intelligence to compensate for other things you think you may lack_.

Those words, spoken by Elizabeth, while they were under the effects of the ascension device back in ‘07, had always haunted Mer. Now, as their world once again narrows to the pursuit of work to the exclusion of all else, the words come back into their head.

Elizabeth had been right, and wrong. Yes, there’s a definite lack of a lot of the qualities that make up a fully rounded human being . . .

_Like giving a crap about your husband and daughter when they’ve been through the ordeal of thinking you were dead, you asshole._

. . . but being clever has always felt more like a consolation prize than compensation. It pretends to be something they can count on, but it never works out that way. “if the SGC don’t warm to me, at least let them be wowed by my intellect”, “If Sheppard won’t love me for me, at least I can impress him by getting him a Big Space Gun”. In reality Mer’s feelings for Sheppard had obliterated their scientific objectivity during the Doranda incident, just like the need to be liked in the SGC had made them want to impress and lose touch with their objectivity there.

_If my parents won’t love me at least they’ll be proud of me for being so clever._ The inner voice is scornful._ Except they weren’t._ _They were just humiliated and ashamed of the kid who built a bomb to get attention._

No, being a genius hasn’t been any compensation at all for not being loved and being a genius has never got them loved. But the need for love has sure got in the way of their genius at times.

_Because being a genius really isn’t all that important measured against all your inadequacies. Elizabeth was right._

‘Which is why I may as well just off myself, yes, I know.’ Mer pre-empts the voice and concedes the point with a weary sigh.

On too many days of their life, Mer has wondered if they are just so hopelessly broken there is no point in trying. During the months of torture and captivity, suicide had seemed merely the sensible solution to an intractable problem; end it before giving the enemy ZedPM power that could hand whole galaxies to them. Mer had not really had time to think about how easy it would be to give in to feelings they had always had.

Now, feelings that have been there since childhood are dredged up fresh and strong and bitter. Suicide would be easy, and maybe it’s an answer to another intractable problem. The one where no matter how much they work at it, here they are back in that place where they simply hate themself. And have every reason to do so.

Work is the only thing that keeps them going.

_You’re an inadequate, one dimensional workaholic. Nothing of value but a brain. _

And doesn’t that feeling go way back? The feeling that Mer can make up for being the difficult and unlovable child by being clever? Only it never really worked, not for their parents, not for the bullies.

***

‘You know there’s dinner at home, right? Ronon cooked.’ John slid gingerly into the seat across from Mer in the Control Tower Cafeteria. He was moving more stiffly than ever, thanks to a combination of joint hypermobility, old injuries and stress that he seemed to be holding at a cellular level. There were dark shadows under eyes that were extra-lined from his obvious tension.

Mer tried not to think about it, tensing themself against the concern emanating from their husband.

‘I’m grabbing something on the fly, it’s really at a crucial stage. We’re going to be able to make ZedPM power fully portable, John, do you know what that could mean?’

John reached across and put a hand on Mer’s arm. Mer worked hard not to flinch, disconnecting from the feeling entirely.

‘It’s amazing. You’re amazing,’ John’s smile was about as sad as a smile could be. ‘But I’m worried.’

‘Don’t be. _Seriously_.’ Mer couldn’t help how that sounded like a warning.

‘Mer –’

‘I really have to get on.’ Mer slid their chair out a little more dramatically than intended, giving away the panic they were feeling. John, worst of all of them, threatened to break their containment with every word, every touch. And that simply couldn’t happen.

John looked like he was going to say something else, but he hesitated long enough for Mer to escape.

Mer would get this work done, and then maybe there would be time to figure out what to do about this crappy mental health. But right now, it was best to just keep on keeping on.

***

‘Mer, can we talk, please?’ Teyla comes into the room, oozing her usual care and patience and it feels like she’s handling an unexploded bomb. Mer hates feeling like they’re being _handled_, hates kid gloves. It just makes them want to explode in her general direction.

‘Yes, what is it?’ Mer snaps. ‘If it’s about John . . .’

‘It is not,’ she says firmly. ‘It is about you, Mer. I am concerned –’

‘You don’t need to be.’ How many _Danger, Keep Out_ signs does Mer have to erect?

‘Mer, let me speak.’ It’s as close as Teyla gets to a snap. ‘This cannot go on. You are doing good work with the portable ZPMs. Important work. But you are not yourself, and it is impacting your team, and others in Atlantis to the point where I need to step in. I’m worried about you, Mer. I’m asking you to go to Becket and get signed off for a while. You need some recovery time.’

Her words feel like being plunged into icy water.

‘And if I refuse?’

‘I cannot accept behaviour such as happened in the meeting yesterday.’

Okay, Mer had really shouted in that meeting. And some of the things they said were pretty offensive. They should say sorry.

‘I was only –’

Teyla holds her hand up and her eyebrow rises. Mer stops mid-sentence.

‘I am not interested in reasons. I simply need it to not happen. I cannot accept it happening. I care for you deeply, Mer, and I understand you are struggling. I think you need help.’

_Ha, help. Nobody’s going to help you, Rodney, nobody can. _The other part of Mer, the part that thinks maybe Teyla’s right, is drowned out under the sneer.

‘As I said, I know you are not yourself,’ Teyla finishes.

‘You’re wrong, Teyla.’ Mer’s voice is hard and they don’t really understand why, when inside they suddenly feel like crying. ‘I am myself. This is exactly who I am.’

Teyla places her hand on Mer’s arm and they flinch away. ‘Oh my friend,’ she says sadly, ‘you are in so much pain, old and new, and I would do anything to be able to help you. But right now, you need time to fight these demons.’

_Ha. She’s giving the demons more time to kick your ass, that’s all. You can’t win this fight. _

Panic fills Mer like a fast-rising tide. ‘Teyla, if you take my work away . . .’_ I’ll kill myself. Because there is no other point to me_. They don’t say it, but maybe Teyla picks it up in their face, because Mer sees real fear there – not of them but _for_ them. It makes their chest so tight they struggle for breath.

‘Mer, you have to take a break. I’m sorry, but I’m not giving you a choice. But I also think you need help. Will you let me take you to Dr Kirkland, Mer? Or to Carson?’

‘No.’ Their voice is cold.

_You know what to do. _

***

‘Come spar with me, McKay.’ Ronon made it sound more like a command, and Mer felt enough like hitting something that they complied. Ronon had a knack for knowing when another frustrating notification from the Atlantean adjudicators had come through.

Belinda Riley’s hearing delayed yet again. Enjoy your time in limbo.

After forty minutes in the gym, they felt pleasantly bruised and breathless. Ronon didn’t go easy on them anymore, hadn’t for a long time. The man was now the wrong side of forty and spent less time in the field than he used to. His body was still lithe and strong, but no longer in the realms of superhuman. And like John he had the relics of a fair few injuries that Mer could take advantage of.

Mer was also much fitter than they had been when Ronon first came to the city. They had even got back the condition they lost while captured. Punishing their body with hard exercise was one of the things that kept the skin-crawling feelings at bay.

They were still getting their ass kicked, though. That was never going to change. Ronon was still Ronon.

Ronon’s huge brown hand gripped Mer’s arm, vice-like and it felt good. They realised this was the most touch they’d had in weeks. It had been that long since withdrawing from the affection of their family. Since trying to ignore how touch-starved John was. Since feeling an odd relief at how their husband was once again turning to Cam, Evan and Ronon for the affection he was missing, just as he had when he thought Mer was dead.

Kind touch would break the containment and then all hell would break loose. Ronon’s bruising grip was okay, though. It was grounding.

When they first came home, they couldn’t get enough touch. For many days they had revelled in the feel of John’s intense lovemaking, Selin’s cuddles, Ronon’s bear hugs, the casual and affectionate touches of their friends – Priya, Chanis, Carson, Teyla. Touch had been more potent than before, because Mer had, without meaning to, undergone a transition. Had liberated a part of themself they thought they never would. They were more open to the world and it was exhilarating.

They didn’t know when it had changed. Maybe they were in shock at first and the trauma hadn’t really kicked in. Maybe all that opening up had unburied things best left undisturbed. Maybe it was a bit of both.

But slowly something loosened inside them that felt too terrifying to free, and the more it did, the more Mer had to harden against it, until it was no longer safe to make love to John, or cuddle their daughter, or exchange affection with their friends, or allow them even to touch Mer with their empathy.

Ronon seemed to pick up on something in Mer, and of course, as everyone was doing, tried to break that containment Mer was desperately trying to preserve. Ronon loosened his grip until it was something else – an offer of friendship, connection.

‘McKay,’ he said. ‘_Mer.’ _

Mer thought they might break apart just from the way Ronon said their name, just from the compassionate look in the soft brown eyes that peered out from beneath his shortened dreads.

‘We worry,’ the man said simply, and Mer shoved them back as hard as they could.

‘Hit me. Please, just hit me,’ they said helplessly, and Ronon had the good sense to let it go and kick back into the sparring, hard and relentless and exactly what Mer needed.

***

Mer knows what to do now. They feel light-headed, but oddly calm about it. There’s a plan. A clear way forward, and everyone will be better off. Anything else is pointless. They don’t have a job and they’ve screwed things royally with their family. Time to put those constant thoughts into action.

In their sleep-deprived brain it all makes perfect sense.

Grabbing the subcu’ signal jammer without a word, they casually wander into their back office and shut the door on Teyla. In seconds, they have the panel off and perform a quick and dirty sabotage, sufficient to stop Teyla getting the door open quickly enough to follow.

The office has a back door that opens on a completely different corridor. It’s why Mer picked it so many years ago. They could come and go quietly if they were feeling fragile or antisocial, unable to deal with the banter in the labs or simply overwhelmed. They slip out, ignoring Teyla’s pleas for them to wait. Fast as she is, she could not reach the transporter in this section before Mer gets away.

They make three separate transports so no one can follow, cutting off Teyla’s calls to their radio as they go. In less than five minutes they’re up the spire they long ago scouted out for this purpose – high enough that the water below will kill on impact and swallow their body, so nobody has to deal with their mashed brains on the deck. And with an overhanging structure at the top that shields them from view and blocks the puddlejumpers from gaining access.

They feel very little except tired.

As Mer reaches the top, their radio blares to life again. It’s John.

‘Mer listen to me,’ his voice is shaky and urgent, ‘This isn’t real. PTSD and depression lie like bastards. They feed every one of your demons. They suck the life out of your hopes better than any wraith. They go searching for evidence to match the terror in your heart. They dredge up everything that hurts and lay it all out like that’s all there is. And it’s worse if you were abused as a kid, Mer, because abused kids think everything is their fault. But it isn’t. It’s not your fault, Mer. It’s really, really not your fault. And you can get through this. _We _can get through this, together.’

No. They can’t hear that. This isn’t some movie like _Good Will Hunting_ where “not your fault” magically makes everything better. Abused kids blame themselves for a reason – because it’s safer that way. “it is better to be a sinner in a world ruled by God than to live in a world ruled by the Devil” – wasn’t that the quote a shrink had taught them long ago? “Not your fault” means no control, means the world is terrifying and brutal and not to be trusted, and has been right from the very start. Doesn’t John see that it’s better to be an asshole? Better to be the one faulty component in a functioning machine. Better for it to be all Mer’s fault because then Mer is in control of their life and the agent of their own destruction.

‘I’m sorry, John. I had to . . . if it’s my fault it feels safer, don’t you see? In my control. And there’s only one piece of control I have left. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. Tell Selin I love her.’ Mer cuts off John’s screamed reply and jumps.


	2. Chapter 2

Torren had wandered into the Control Tower Cafeteria with his new shadow, Mer’s nephew Bradley, close behind. Mer watched as Torren turned to his friend, a serene smile so like his mother’s as his glance shyly took in Brad’s gawky frame and freckled face. Mer felt a little tug at his heart as he watched Brad’s fingers tangle in Torren’s, returning the look with pure adoration. Torren leaned in for a chaste kiss, and Mer glanced anxiously at his dining companion, his sister Jeannie, to gauge her reaction, but she just smiled a little carefully.

‘Not exactly a surprise, is it?’ She said, and Mer wondered about the worry they saw in her familial blue eyes.

Jeannie was right, it wasn’t a surprise. Anyone could see the spark between the two boys from the moment the Millers arrived in Atlantis, just after Mer’s rescue.

‘How do you feel about it?’ Mer scrutinised their sister’s face. As with everyone else, there wasn’t much communication happening between them lately.

‘Happy . . . scared. I mean I trust them both, love them both, but they’re just into adolescence, it’s a crazy time.’ Torren and 13-year-old Brad had been born within Earth months of each other, although of course their ages were different because they’d been measured on different planets. Athosians, a migratory people, measured their years by the length of a pregnancy, making Torren 17.

‘Athosian kids are pretty responsible at that age.’

‘True, but Brad? He has a tendency towards drama.’

‘TJ will steady him. Takes after Teyla.’

‘I hope so.’ Jeannie relaxed. ‘No, you’re right, I couldn’t want for anyone better for Brad, I just hope it takes.’

‘Looks pretty mutual to me,’ Mer glanced across to the balcony, where the boys were sharing fries and sweet glances, Torren’s dark brown eyes shining warmth into Bradley’s ice blue. ‘But I guess you never know with young love.’ Mer couldn’t quite tell why something about this was suddenly making them jittery.

‘They’re so adorable, Huh? It’s lovely. And I’m so glad their world here in Atlantis is safe and accepting – so different from what you had as a teenager at the height of the HIV panic, with homophobic, transphobic bullies like Mum and Dad. I know they never knew you were bi and trans, but they treated you so badly for being different, for not fitting the masculinity stereotype. And I was too much younger to really be able to stick up for you. I mean, I didn’t have it easy, but you . . .’ she trailed off and a worried look came across her face. ‘Mer?’

Mer could feel their throat closing, their chest filling up with rocks. They gripped the table as if it was stopping them from falling from a great height. For a moment they thought it was anaphylaxis, the panic attack came on so sharply.

Oh god, they were going to be sick. They ran to the nearest bathroom and lost their lunch, heaving painfully into the bowl until it felt like they would turn inside out.

‘Mer? Are you okay?’ Jeannie’s voice came from outside the door. Panic rose in Mer’s chest at the sound of her love and concern.

_Snap out of it, dickhead. _They slapped themself hard across the face, and it jolted them out of whatever it was that had them caught. Best not to dwell. They splashed water on their face, washed their mouth out and exited the room.

‘Just something I ate, I think,’ but Jeannie clearly wasn’t buying it.

***

Well. That really didn’t go according to plan. Mer feels stupid and small but almost manages a laugh, hanging there six feet down from where they jumped, with a long shaft of metal snagged firmly up the back of their jacket. Finishing the job would be a mere matter of shrugging the jacket off. Or, if it rips, that will be that. There’s no way out of it, so why isn’t Mer just finishing this?

_Seriously, you even suck at killing yourself, Rodney._

‘Oh just fuck off and let me think!’ Mer snaps at the inner voice.

This is weird. They should be dead, planned on being dead, but now they aren’t and honestly? They don’t feel quite the same way about it that they did six feet ago.

Huh.

They glance down at the water that looked so inviting moments before, and their stomach lurches. They hadn’t felt afraid when they jumped, but now they’re terrified. The gentle roll of Atlantis is exaggerated at this height and it adds to the churning feeling inside them. There is a nanosecond of wonder at the Ancient design that seems to have minimised wind channelling around the towers, but mostly there is mind-blowing fear.

_Fuck._

Why hadn’t they felt afraid when they jumped? That’s . . . odd.

Oh. Something isn’t quite right here, is it? Their head feels . . . not just tired, something else that is . . . off.

They remember John’s voice trying to talk them down and how far away it seemed. So unreal. They reach a tentative hand to their earpiece and get John on their private channel.

‘Mer. God . . . please tell me you’re not going to do something stupid.’ John’s voice sounds choked with emotion. ‘I can’t lose you _again_. Don’t know what I’d do if that happened.’ The grief is thick in his voice.

John’s love has been a constant in their life for such a long time and it’s one thing they’ve been sure of through to their bones. So why hasn’t Mer been able to feel it lately?

_Oh, fuck. I’m really not right. _

_Ya think?_ Another inner voice adds, almost amused that it has taken finding themself hanging hundreds of feet above the Lantean ocean after a failed suicide attempt to realise they are unwell and need help.

_Damn. Should’ve listened to Teyla._

‘Er, John? Please don’t get mad, but I already did do something stupid.’

John utters a choked-off, shocked sob. Mer’s heart squeezes at the sound.

‘Listen,’ Mer continues, their voice shaking with a combination of terror and the emotion that John’s grief is generating. ‘I need you to grab the climbing gear and get to me as quick as you can. Come alone. I don’t think . . . I think I’m a little crazy right now and more people might make the outcome less predictable.’

They tell John where to find them and can hear him crashing around their apartment getting the gear together.

‘Please just . . .’ John’s voice is small over the radio, and terrified. ‘Stay with me, okay? We can make this right, I promise.’

‘I’m sorry John,’ one part of Mer knows this is the shittiest thing they’ve ever done, while another part urges them to finish the job. ‘I’ll try.’ A kernel of feeling that they thought had been lost is growing, fed by the emotion in John’s voice.

The pain of their jacket pulling against two very wrenched shoulders is helping keep Mer lucid. It’s weird, seeing this checked out, disconnected part of themself from a safer distance. Realising that part is simply trying to escape from unfathomable pain. Pain that goes back a long way. The recent trauma just stirred it up. Added to it, of course, but it’s the old stuff that’s the real problem.

There’s no cure for being unloveable. As a kid, Mer had been so lost, so alone, so hurt, and there had been no hope of rescue. The old, old feelings fit themselves against the recent ones like a second skin. No wonder it all sent them back _there_.

Mer flicks off their radio. They suddenly want to shout out things they’re not ready for John to hear.

‘You weren’t there for me, you left me to rot. Left me to be tortured. Left me to be . . .’ they pause, unable to name the feelings that insert themselves there, even to the empty air. ‘Didn’t come for me,’ they shout. Mer knows it isn’t fair to blame John, but that doesn’t change the feeling. It’s an old feeling, anyway, stretching back to long before. They’re just about aware enough to know this isn’t really about John, but they don’t want to look directly at what it is about.

‘Mer!’ John’s face looks over the edge. ‘I’m here. Oh god, Mer, please hang on.’

‘I was tortured and you never came!’ Mer screams at him, unable to hold it in.

‘I know,’ John accepts their words sadly as he sets up for the climb with careful haste. ‘I think about that every day. Words are fucking useless but for what it’s worth, I am so, so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?’

‘Stupid. It wasn’t your fault. I know that. There was no way you could have known I was alive.’

‘Still,’ John says as he swings out over the edge, ‘will you forgive me?’ Mer has never heard John’s voice so shaky. They know it isn’t the terrifying height he has just swung himself out over. Another terror, still raw from two months of thinking he had lost . . . the love of his life. God, Mer was an asshole to do this to him. A wave of love and compassion they haven’t been able to access in too, too long floods their system, making their heart nearly break.

‘Of course I forgive you,’ tears well in Mer’s eyes. It’s been too long since they cried. After months of trying to hold together, they can feel themself breaking apart. And somehow it’s okay. Maybe they can be a different kind of broken than the kind they planned when they jumped.

John’s with them now. Swift, sure hands fitting a harness around them. Hazel eyes meet Mer’s, and where they expect to see anger and hurt, there’s only compassion. Suddenly Mer feels like they’re in the safest place in the world, because John has got them. They breathe in John’s scent, and the comfortingly familiar fragrance of Athosian soap. Feel his ragged breath on their cheek.

‘While you’re in the forgiving business, how bout you spare some for yourself eh, beautiful?’ John’s hands are all business, fixing the harness, but the touches feel like caresses.

Mer chokes on tears. ‘I think that . . . could take . . . some time,’ their breath stutters against John’s shoulder as he pulls them out of their jacket, letting the harness take their weight.

‘Best get started, then, huh?’ John gives Mer a squeeze as he hauls them up the side of the building, then goes silent with the labour of getting them both to safety. His face is close to Mer’s, and Mer can see his eyes are wet with tears. Once he gets Mer back onto the safety of the rooftop, John pulls them hard against him, breathing heavily and sobbing hard.

Mer can’t say exactly why this loosens something inside them, but they find themself crying along with John.


	3. Chapter 3

‘You need to go back to work, John. Things need to get back to normal.’ Mer is making a sandwich in the kitchenette of their mountain cabin, at a counter that overlooks one of the most spectacular views on this or any planet. Fluffy clouds float thousands of feet below them, wrapped around jagged, snowy peaks that are unreachable by anything but a jumper or the modified transporter.

John’s leaning at the end of the counter watching them with the same guard-dog attention, mixed with affection, that has been following them around ever since Mer tried to chuck themself off a tall building and somehow missed. He still has the same shadows under his eyes, the extra worry lines on his aging face, his greying hair a little more mussed even than usual, just like he’s had ever since he brought Mer home from Earth, and no doubt for the two months before that when he thought his spouse was dead.

Not that he isn’t still as breathtakingly beautiful as he ever was, but Mer would love to be able to smooth those heavy cares away.

‘You’re not ready to get back to work, Mer.’

‘No. I’m not. Not until I can feel like I have some value beyond what I do in the lab, according to Dr Kirkland. Apparently being kept alive purely for my genius was exactly the wrong thing for my self-esteem.’ Mer idly slices up what Cam and Evan derisively called Satedan spam, a canned meat John and Mer are strangely fond of.

John edges round the counter and twines himself around his spouse, placing little kisses across their collarbone and up their neck. ‘You’re so much more than a brain, Mer. God, you’re everything to me.’

That choked sound in John’s voice doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. Mer knows John is terrified of losing them, knowing exactly what that’s like after thinking Mer was dead for two months. Mer aches for what this has put John through, wanting John to get mad even as they are learning to forgive themself and let go of their own anger.

Of course John blames himself for Mer’s suicide attempt, which is utterly ridiculous but so completely typical of him.

***** **

Dr Martin Kirkland looked like a walking stereotype of a therapist with his linen clothes, bordering on hippy, hair cut not quite short enough and almost-neat grey beard. But he was good, damn good, and Mer wondered why they’d been avoiding him since getting back to Atlantis.

‘I didn’t know it could actually happen, Martin,’ they said, panic filling them as they thought about how close it had been. ‘I’ve had those thoughts so long but never acted on them; I took for granted that I wouldn’t. I don’t even really understand how I did, and that terrifies me.’

Martin was silent for a while, but Mer never felt abandoned by his silences. Even in quiet, Martin was right there with him.

‘Mer, how long have we known each other?’

Mer thought about this odd question. ‘Wow . . . er . . . when we were still on the Earth calendar at least . . . no, further back . . . before John . . .’ their hands started windmilling as they caught hold of their first memory of Martin’s office, backgrounded by Earth-blue skies. ‘San Francisco! I was still with Jennifer.’ They met Martin’s eyes. ‘Long time.’

‘Well over a decade,’ Martin affirmed. ‘You came to me about your relationship with Jennifer. You came to me about John. About the autism. About leaving Atlantis back in 2012. About John’s accident in 2013. About your wedding nerves. About that long fight with Radek in AC year 2. About that brush with wraith worshippers in year 3. When you went back to Hoff and couldn’t sleep afterwards. When Selin came to you and you had to look hard at the way you had been parented. So many things, Mer.’

It didn’t come across as reproach, but Mer felt seized with shame. ‘I was stupid not to come to you this time, I know . . .’

‘No,’ Martin said firmly. ‘What I’m saying is that when you didn’t come I _knew_ how bad it was. I knew you’d come eventually. But I wish there had been a way to take better care of you while you were dissociating from it. I didn’t know this would happen, but I was worried, Mer.’

‘Dissociating? Is that what was happening?’

‘I think so. Autistic folks seem to be especially good at it, and so do people who’ve suffered early trauma, though we all do it. The mind packs stuff away we can’t deal with, but it bleeds through eventually.’

‘I feel like . . . it’s not just about what happened to me this year. I feel like it’s . . . I dunno . . . got caught on something else.’ That had been surprisingly hard to say, but Mer didn’t really know why.

‘Okay, that makes sense. How we cope with trauma is very dependent on previous traumas. We can look at all of it, Mer, but slowly. In your own time.’

‘But my own time nearly got me killed,’ Mer’s breathing started to struggle again, and Martin reminded them to ground themself. Mer focussed for a moment on playing with the tassels of the Latiran blanket they always pulled around them during sessions, counting the threads in each wavy blue stripe, feeling its soft texture against their fingertips.

‘You haven’t done something wrong, Mer. This was something that was momentarily too much for you. It was bad and you didn’t know how to cope. I am sorry none of the people around you could find a way to help, myself included. I’m very glad you’re here now.’

The inner voice was still there and Mer didn’t disagree with it. _He’s just being nice, but you know what you did was the most awful thing you could possibly do to John and Selin. They’ll never forgive you, so you may as well finish the job._

But even Mer could see the logic-hole in feeling suicidal about having been suicidal. Despite their scepticism of what Martin was saying, maybe they could give it a chance. In over a decade, Martin had never steered Mer wrong.

‘You’re in pain, Mer. That isn’t something to be ashamed of. We’ll figure it out.’

Mer felt tears spilling down their cheeks but somehow, they felt like someone else’s tears falling down someone else’s cheeks, and they still did not know how they really felt about anything.

***** **

‘If you think I’m going back to work without you, you’ve gotta be shitting me.’ John says firmly, and Mer can only laugh. It’s both overwhelming and comforting to have John stuck to his side like velcro since the attempt. Selin, when not at school, is stuck right there with him. Her hugs are worried and fierce. John, Mer and Ronon have all decided trying to completely hide what’s happening from their super observant daughter would be more harmful than the truth, but her reaction to their careful explanation of Mer’s breakdown, “accident”, and subsequent stay in hospital went deep. Of all the friends and family rallying around them, she is the most determined (other than John) to love Mer better.

When Mer isn’t in push-away mode, their need of John and Selin is so enormous it’s a little frightening.

‘We can’t just shut the world out and live in each other’s pockets, John. I think . . . I need something to occupy me. And I want to work on being less clingy.’

‘Mer, there’s no need. Pretty sure clingy is good right now. We needed to properly reconnect.’ John squeezes Mer closer and cards his hands through their hair, sending little shivers through Mer’s skin. The Satedan spam sandwich is momentarily forgotten.

But life can’t be on hold forever, and Mer doesn’t know how to tell John that they can’t see themself going back to the lab and keeping their fragile sanity. If that’s what John is waiting for, it might be a long wait. Perhaps an infinite one, the way they feel now.

‘John . . .’ Mer tugs John’s chin out of the crook of their neck and catches his hazel eyes. ‘What if I didn’t go back to science? I mean, if I just walked away and did something new, would, would you . . .’

Mer watches the thoughts and feelings flit across John’s face like clouds. First, he schools the scepticism from his face and then there’s a flash of sadness. Finally, he just looks thoughtful. ‘Would I what? Give you a hard time? Beat you at chess more often?’ Still love you?’

Mer exhales. ‘Yes.’

‘No, yes and yes of course. Had you forgotten that parasite? I still loved you when you couldn’t remember a thing.’

Mer’s heart clenches at the memory. Then, losing science had been devastating, precisely because it was all they had. Now they’re beginning to see that they have so much more. That they _are_ so much more than just a brain.

‘I never forgot you, John.’

John hugs them a little tighter, looking sad and thoughtful.

‘I could become a sanitation engineer,’ Mer goes on, ‘Would you love me if I came home smelling of sewage?’

‘I mean yes, we’ve established I will love you under any and all circumstances, but didn’t you pretty much moonlight at that gig in the first year of the expedition?’

‘Oh yeah.’ That had not been fun. ‘Well, what if I was offworld doing refugee work? Would you love me then?’

‘Heck yes Mer. I’d be tempted to take a sabbatical and come join you. Though I think Selin might have something to say if we spent too much time offworld.’

Okay, Mer isn’t going to hurt their daughter any more than they already have, so that’s out, but there’s probably refugee work they can do in Atlantis. Ronon will know.

‘Anyway, which part of I will love you no matter what do you not get?’ John says firmly, giving them a squeeze.

‘So if I became a clown . . .’

‘Hell no. A man has limits!’ John’s trying hard not to let the corners of his mouth twitch and Mer mirrors his faux-serious face.

‘Ha! I knew there were conditions. For the record, I loved you even when you were a bug. So I win.’

John smiles a particularly lascivious grin. ‘You _fucked_ me when I was at least half-bug, as I recall. But I fucked you when you were hopped up on wraith enzyme so we’re even there.’

Mmm yes, Mer remembers. It had been sizzling hot. A stir of arousal comes from the memory.

‘Other way round.’ Mer corrects, pressing a little closer to John as they speak, ‘_you_ fucked _me_ when you were half-bug, _I_ fucked _you_ when I was on the enzyme. Pretty aggressively in both cases, as I recall.’ Mer shivers deliciously at both memories. The sex had been intense, primal, both times. Both times had been after Doranda, when their fragile early relationship had come apart at the seams. Those moments of connection out of nowhere had been fiercely bright chinks amid the clouds of confusion.

The memory arouses them so quickly they have John up against a wall before their next breath. The pair kiss, hot and hard, all teeth and tongues, until they’re both breathless. Then Mer kisses down John’s body, rips open his fly and sucks him down without any preamble.

‘Jesus, Mer,’ John sighs and Mer knows he’s already right on the edge.

Their lovemaking has been gentle and cuddly for a while, and sometimes Mer worries John thinks they might break. Now Mer is holding John hard against the wall, reminding John that they have long since matched his waning strength. They suck and swallow and tongue his cock, hard and without finesse, stroking his balls, his perineum, massaging at his hole until he bucks and comes hard in Mer’s mouth.

After tucking him back in and giving him a moment to recover, Mer slides back up John’s body, tugging open their fly and shoving John’s hand on their cock as they kiss him breathless. In seconds they’re coming hard, panting and moaning against John’s mouth.

‘Well, you can always take that up full time,’ John says breathlessly.

Mer smiles. ‘Okay, you’re on. But John?’ They pin him with their steeliest look. ‘You’re not meant to be a nanny for a no-longer-suicidal ex scientist. You need to go back to work. I’m going to be okay.’

John pins Mer right back with a searching look. ‘But what if . . .’

‘What if I’m faking better so I can give you the slip?’

John looks shifty.

‘I’m not that good a liar, John. And it’s been a couple of weeks since I was tempted to try anything . . . And I think I’m at the place where I’m going to tell you or Martin if it happens again.’

John keeps holding Mer’s gaze. And finally, finally Mer sees anger there.

‘You have every right to be angry, John.’

John’s gaze shifts and his face shutters as he looks over the room.

‘It’s getting late. We should tidy up before heading back.’

Mer still has John pinned against the wall. They press him back, deliberately provocative.

‘Your anger won’t break me, John. But kid gloves might. If you’re not being real with me I’m going to get paranoid super-fast.’

‘What do you want me to say?’ John runs a shaky hand through his hair. ‘I don’t understand how I feel. I’m not having therapy. Maybe I should. I’m not making any sense of any of this, I’m just doing what I do in any risky and evolving situation, staying alive and keeping everyone else alive. I’ll survey the damage when the danger’s passed.’

Mer’s throat suddenly feels like it’s full of razorblades. Oh _god._ They run their hand through John’s hair and rub at the back of his neck.

‘It’s passed, John. It’s passed. You can stand down, soldier.’ They look John in the eyes and the anger’s gone. John just looks lost, as tears slip down his cheeks. Mer presses close once more, pulling John against their chest. After a long silence in which John just clings to them, Mer says,

‘Right, that’s it. You’re going back to work. You need the break.’


	4. Chapter 4

‘I lied to you, Martin. I didn’t mean to, but this isn’t the first time I followed through on suicidal thoughts.’

Martin waited patiently for Mer to continue, his look concerned but not shocked.

‘I did it sometime after Doranda. I took an overdose but survived it, miraculously. And nobody realised I had been trying to die, they thought it was just a really bad escape plan. I never told anyone.’

‘I remember about Doranda. You had wanted to prove yourself, right? And it had gone horribly wrong.’

‘I wanted to be loved, Martin. I’d fallen in love with John but we were all off-balance. I thought . . . actually, I don’t know what I thought. But I guess . . . there’s something about the Doranda thing that I need to know to understand what happened this time.’

‘Okay . . . a pattern of some sort, and wanting to be loved is the thing that feels significant about that time?’

‘Yes . . . no. I don’t actually . . .’ Mer scraped their hand through their loose curls in frustration. ‘I can see now that John loved me and that I fucked around with his feelings as much as he did with mine, but at the time, I was sure I was being used, and even thinking about that makes me feel sick and panicky. And then it gets mixed up with Cadman having control of my body, doing stuff without my consent.’

‘Take a breath, Mer, that’s clearly hitting on something pretty powerful,’ Martin noticed the way Mer was losing the ability to breathe even before they noticed it themself.

‘That sense of feeling used . . . yeah, that hits deep. Belinda Riley . . . it’s almost as if someone got there first, laid down the tracks for her to follow. Like, “this is the roadmap to controlling and using Rodney – Mer – McKay”. I don’t know if that makes any sense?’ Mer felt like there were big rocks in their stomach. There was something, but their head could not parse it. It went straight to their gut, and before they had a chance to do anything about it, Martin was casually passing them the waste basket and Mer was losing their lunch into it. They puked til there was nothing left and their insides felt bruised. Tears wet their cheeks, but they still had no clue what was going on.

*******

‘No fucking way!’

Mer hasn’t heard John quite this upset for a while, and their heart clenches, vacillating between wanting to burst into the room and protect John from whatever is upsetting him, and the instinct to eavesdrop. Two other voices come from the room; patient, calm, and only just audible.

Jeannie and Radek.

‘John, Mer’s come a long way. I don’t believe there would be a risk to him – to them, I mean. I asked Carson and he agrees it would be ok to ask. They can always say no.’

‘Like they’re going to say no to “kids lives are at risk from a failing shield.”’

‘John,’ Radek is as gentle as the little Czech can be. ‘Kids, and adults, lives _are_ at stake from shield that will fail in four days. Jeannie and I are doing our best but is complex problem. Mer would be better. They are foremost expert on ancient tech in three galaxies. Maybe we will manage without them. Maybe even with we will not succeed. But how can we not ask?’

‘You wouldn’t have anyone here to ask if . . .’ John stutters on his words and goes silent. Then, growling low but fierce, ‘I won’t risk that happening again.’ Mer’s heart aches for John’s predicament. And they want to throttle him at the same time.

‘It’s not still a risk. I wouldn’t put the life of my own brother – I mean sibling – at risk, John. Mer’s better. I can see the new strength in them, why can’t you? Besides, it’s –’

‘Not your decision to make.’ Mer finishes her sentence firmly as they slip into the room. ‘I want to do this. I’m ready.’ They reach a hand to lay on John’s shoulder, but John shrugs it away abruptly, and strides out of the room, the doors whooshing closed behind him with a ferocity that only John Sheppard could manipulate Atlantis into demonstrating.

***** **

‘So, what I’m left with, Martin, is the reality that even though I can accept “not my fault” on a good day, my weirdness was part of what made my parents, and others, treat me like crap. And that takes me back to _very much my fault._’

Once again, they were wrapped up in the blue Latiran blanket, pulling it close around them as they prized these words free.

Mer had taken a long time to admit to having been neglected and emotionally abused as a child, and it had taken Selin landing in their lives to really see it. There was nothing like having a kid of your own to make you think hard about what is and isn’t ok for a parent to do and say to their own kid.

There had been a lot that really wasn’t ok, between the way their father talked to them and the way their mother barely talked to them at all. It was hard to admit, but Mer’s childhood had been . . . bad. Not the dramatic kind of bad that makes for a good misery memoir but cold and barren and vicious and unrelenting.

‘You were divergent in a time when there was a pretty narrow margin for what’s acceptable. Autistic, brilliant, gender non-conforming. None of those things is remotely bad, but your parents may have been schooled to think they were.’

God, Martin didn’t go in for platitudes and empty reassurances.

‘You see? Any way you look at it, _I_ was the problem. Coming out as – non-binary, genderqueer or whatever – it’s just reinforced my sense of weirdness. I feel . . .’ Mer signed. The rocks in their gut were a tiny bit less heavy today, but only a fraction. There was a fresh liner ready in the bin just in case.

‘You feel?’

‘Ashamed. I know now it happened because of who – what – I am.’

‘The teacher.’

‘Yes, the teacher.’ Mer sighed at the spasm in their gut from this acknowledgement. Mer had mentioned it in passing before, like it had been nothing. They had wanted it to be nothing, but it wasn’t working out that way.

‘I found out some stuff . . . on the internet,’ they went on, ‘that autistic kids are more likely to get sexually abused because they’re vulnerable and easy to isolate. Same is true of queer kids of course. I had a target on my back just for being me.’

‘It’s more complicated than that, Mer. You wouldn’t have been vulnerable if the world knew how to look after and support kids who were different.’

‘Hush. Blaming myself gives me control, remember?’ Mer shot Martin a twisted smile, but then sagged in the chair, sinking their head into their hands.

‘Thing is, it all ties together, Martin, like the tendrils of a wraith cocoon. Me being different, my parents being crap, that teacher being a fucking peado and choosing me as prey, me throwing myself further into study and turning natural aptitude into single-minded determination to be the best, me ending up tortured out of my head and broken just so someone could use my fucking brain.’ They sank further into the chair and shivered. ‘What they . . .’ they lapsed into silence, not really wanting to finish that sentence and at the same time wanting to desperately.

‘Mer, you haven’t really mentioned the torture to me. And I don’t want to push, but . . .’

‘It wasn’t that bad.’ Mer said hesitantly, gut clenching. Jesus, why was this so hard to admit? So much shame there. ‘I mean, the torture was . . . bad, very bad, but this was just a small part of it. Nothing serious. They didn’t rape me or anything.’

‘But they sexually assaulted you,’ Martin _knew,_ and it was such a relief. There was no judgement there, he didn’t look at Mer with disgust. Well, why would he? Mer took the first full breath they’d managed for a long while, and it instantly turned into a sob, as they finally let go of the thing they had been holding in all these months. Pulling that blanket, the colour of the sea, tightly around them they shivered as the sobs tore through them.

They cried for a long time, and Martin did that thing he always did – holding Mer without touching them. Eventually, Mer was able to speak.

‘I don’t understand why the punches and kicks did less harm than this. There were no _bruises_ from this. Sometimes, in the moment, it was almost . . . comforting.’ Mer’s gut churned and their head felt hot and full of bees.

‘Fuck, it hurts so much, Martin. And it wraps itself around memories of that fucking teacher and even stirs up some nasty feelings about Cadman and I feel like . . .’

The nausea again, sharp and painful and overwhelming, but Mer breathed through it, hands clenched on the blanket, and kept their breakfast down. They’d learned to have something light before therapy – it helped.

‘You feel like . . .?’

‘Like I need to crawl out of my own skin. Like my body isn’t mine.’

‘I hear you, Mer, it sounds like being invaded, violated and not just the once.’

‘Yeah. And I want my fucking body back. I want my life back. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t fucking deserve any of this!’ Anger rose in them, stronger than the nausea. They wanted to smash stuff but they knew they wouldn’t.

‘No, you didn’t deserve any of this,’ Martin said in his soft, soothing voice. ‘You really didn’t. It’s horrible what happened to you. The torture, the teacher. Cadman. Nobody should have their autonomy over their body taken away like that.

***** **

‘Can we do this in the big chair? It’s going to be tough on all of us.’

Ronon has rounded John up and brought him home, but he’s sullen and uncommunicative, with a current of anger vibrating just beneath the surface. Mer handles him into the oversized armchair and wriggles up against him, back to his chest. John’s (continually pain-wracked, Mer reminds themself, because it helps understand the extra grumpiness sometimes) body is tense and reluctant but malleable. Much as John Sheppard grows prickles when faced with conflict, he gets through conflict better through touch than words – they all do. Ronon and Selin sit to either side, with Selin pressed mainly against Mer and Ronon side to side with John.

‘So, I’ve been asked back to work.’ Mer feels all three bodies tense around them. ‘John’s not impressed, and I sense he’s not alone, but I want to think about it properly. And update you all about where my head’s at.’

‘S’your choice Mckay,’ Ronon says with a bluntness that belies his underlying worry.

‘I don’t want you to.’ Selin says plainly, jaw set firm, and John just moves his hand to her brown hair and strokes.

‘Okay, but can we just take a step back and look at why everyone’s freaking out here? I mean I understand, but let’s talk?’ Mer is trying very hard to sound steady, not to let their voice slip into lecturing or shrill.

John sighs and something in him loosens just slightly. He puts his chin on Mer’s shoulder. ‘We’re listening,’ he says wearily.

‘Okay, so it turns out there’s a whole big complicated story about me and work that I had to look at in therapy. Among many other things. I want to help you understand that.’

A little chorus of affirming murmurs and nudges at that.

‘So first of all, my family weren’t that great.’

‘Understatement,’ Ronon growls, squeezing Mer’s hand. John just presses closer.

‘Well basically, I learned to protect myself early on from feeling hurt and neglected and unloved by being clever. I’m not entirely sure that it ever helped me at all with my parents and it probably made things worse with the bullies but I imagined it as armour and it was all I had and . . . it got me good attention from adults at school, if nothing else.’

No way is Selin going to hear about the all-kinds-of-wrong attention it also got them from that one teacher. Mer shivers a bit at the thought, but Martin is helping there, it no longer feels like toxic waste corroding their insides.

‘That makes me so sad, Pa,’ Selin snuggles closer to Mer.

‘Yeah me too, Sel.’

Mer’s glad Selin has relented and gone back to calling them Pa. For a while she’d called them simply Mer, and it didn’t feel right. Why “Pa” doesn’t feel gendered to them, they can’t say.

‘Anyway, then there was me being autistic and bad with people . . .’

‘You’re not bad with people, you get overwhelmed in certain situations,’ Ronon corrects. ‘And you’re quirky. But that’s not bad, it’s different.’

The message that “different is okay” is hammered home daily in their household. Mer realises it isn’t ok to go off message, even (especially) in the cause of self-flagellation.

‘No, Ronon, you’re right. That idea that I got from all sides that I was bad with people and only good with science wasn’t helpful. I’ve carried it around too long. I _can_ be bad with people and for a long time I didn’t let myself even try, just hid behind science and kept folk at arm’s length. But that changed when I got to Atlantis.’

‘You’re good with me, Pa,’ Selin says, and Mer knows she’s being honest. A lump rises in their throat.

‘It’s not exactly hard, Sel.’ They squeeze her hand.

‘Take a compliment, Pa, don’t bat it back.’

‘Oh wow you sound just like your Da when you say that.’

‘She didn’t say it I would’ve,’ John affirms gruffly. Okay, the anger is still there but the edge is coming off it.

‘He’s right, too,’ Sel chimes.

Mer sighs. ‘That he is. And thank you.’

‘So,’ John says in his _let’s cut to the chase, _tone, ‘can we get to the bit where that asshole that’s in our custody treated your brain like an exploitable commodity without any regard for the life attached, and how that set you back so far into your own past hurt you couldn’t see how much you’re worth or feel how much you’re loved?’ His voice is taut with anger once more, but at the same time his fingertips trace the curve of Mer’s neck with desperate affection.

‘Ooof,’ says Mer, ‘succinctly but brutally put.’ The reminder that Belinda Riley is still awaiting her hearing gives them shivers. ‘The thing is, you’re right. Belinda and her minions dredged up some old, old wounds. My only value was as a scientist. I was completely disposable as a person. And she pressed some painful buttons to get me where she wanted, but I won’t go into that right now.’ Selin doesn’t need to know detail about the way Mer was tortured, or the major and complicated childhood issues that torture has unearthed.

‘Why do I get the feeling when you came home some of that programme was still running?’ John’s fingers tremble slightly against Mer’s scalp as he says this.

‘Maybe. I definitely went back to old habits. I dealt with my pain the way I used to, by throwing myself into work and using it like a shield against everything else. I didn’t see the danger in that. I didn’t see that the more I disappeared into work, the less I felt part of this, and the less protected I was against the trauma symptoms that were inevitably going to surface.’

Mer snuggles against their family and sighs. ‘I owe you all a big apology. I’ve been so used to being alone at the worst times in my life I defaulted into old patterns. I neglected what we have here, neglected you all and myself too. It was really, really stupid.’

‘It was human,’ says Ronon. ‘You went through something more difficult than you could cope with. It happens.’

‘I find that hard to hear that from you after all you’ve coped with in your life.’

‘Okay,’ says Ronon, seizing Mer’s hand again. ‘One, a good childhood helps you cope better with most stuff. I was lucky. Two, I didn’t cope nearly as well as you think. One day we should talk about that, maybe.’

Mer meets Ronon’s brown eyes and is surprised by the pain they see there. Maybe they just assumed the man is strong. Or maybe being strong is Ronon’s defence the way work is Mer’s.

‘Da, you look like you have something to say,’ Selin is too good at care-taking others; that’s her own little coping mechanism, one they can’t cure her of. This whole episode will no doubt make it a lot worse.

‘Okay, yeah, yeah I do. I don’t understand why you would go back to something that hurt you so badly.’ John is playing with the hairline at the back of Mer’s neck, a move known to send them completely gooey, and is absolutely calculated to make sure Mer is paying attention. It’s a strange combination of loving and insistent. The anger’s still there, just below the surface.

‘Oh. I guess I haven’t said that bit.’ Actually, Mer hadn’t really even realised it fully until Jeannie and Radek asked them back. But this is important. They turn around slightly, to look John in his – glowering, but still beautiful – hazel eyes.

‘Okay,’ they continue. ‘I’ve used science as a shield, and a hiding place and even a prison at times. That’s true, and I want to learn not to do that. But it’s so much more to me than that. It’s one of my great loves, John. Not close to you and Selin but up there all the same. It fills me with awe and joy and passion and wonder and I miss it terribly. I feel like I did with you back in 2012 – that I need to make my relationship with science right again, get us on a better footing. And maybe we needed a break from each other, but I could no more not be a scientist than I could not be Selin’s Pa or John Sheppard’s spouse. It’s who I am.’

‘Oh.’ John digests that for a moment, his face pondering for a bit and then looking a little brighter. ‘Oh! I thought this was about you feeling like you _had_ to. To save those kids, to please Jeannie and Radek. Because you said . . .’

‘I was terribly ill, and I was terrified if I ever returned to work it would take me back to that place. Kirkland and I have been working on ways to make sure that doesn’t happen. I can’t risk things being the way they were before, but I need to at least try to find a way forward. I want to ease in part time. Keep up the refugee work. Adjust the way I do things and think about things. Put plans in place so I never end up where I did before. I may need some distraction when . . . if . . . the hearing finally happens, but I can’t afford to disappear into my work again.’

Selin slides out of her chair. When she returns, she has the beautiful Satedan ink pen Ronon got her for her adoption anniversary and a folder of loose paper. She carefully prints out “Helping Pa stay safe”, in indigo ink and then looks expectantly at her Pa.

Mer ruffles her hair. ‘That’s my bright little Comet. Good plan. Number one – if I start working too late or too hard, it’s ok to check in with Radek and Jeannie. I mean, I could just be on the verge of revolutionising all our lives or saving the universe, but it’s ok to check, and it’s ok not to let me do it for too long.’

‘Number two, keeping normal office hours is the rule, not the exception.’ John says firmly.

‘Okay, fair. Know how to spell “exception”, Sel?’

‘Uh huh.’ Sel rolls her eyes in a very Mer-like way but leaves the “duh” unspoken.

‘Number three, if my sleep pattern goes bad, I need to go to Carson and you’re allowed to make me.’

‘Number four,’ Selin adds, ‘It’s our job to remind you of all the ways we love you that have nothing to do with science. Signed Selin, John . . .’

‘And Ronon,’ Ronon adds, and Mer squeezes his hand tight. Some days their quirky little family just blows them away.


	5. Chapter 5

The shield on planet Salni has been fixed and honestly, Radek and Jeannie could have done it without them, but Mer is glad to be easing back into the lab and field work. They have also done two more volunteer shifts with the refugee settlement group and are feeling a sense of balance that has long eluded them.

Things with John are almost back to how they should be, but there’s one conversation that still has not happened.

‘John,’ Mer takes their husband’s hand and holds on tight, trying to draw enough strength to say what they need to say. ‘There’s something I need to . . .’

_God, this is hard._

John shoots Mer a worried look, but squeezes their hand encouragingly, saying nothing. The pair are alone in the apartment, sat together on the sofa, touching from shoulder to ankle. Remnants of homemade pizza and some divine sort-of soda the Salnis sent back with Mer surround them, and the laptop (which is wired up to a ridiculously big Ancient screen) has just run the final teaser at the end of the latest Marvel nonsense.

Mer takes a moment to collect their thoughts, relishing the absolute quiet. Selin is with Charyn, Ronon’s on a date. Nothing serious, but it never is with Ronon.

Mer knows if they don’t talk to John now, it’s never going to happen.

‘There’s some things I never told you, and I should have.’ Mer blurts it out like a guilty secret. ‘Kind of a lot of things really, or maybe they add up to one big thing . . .’

John’s brow furrows, but he just cocks his head, ready to listen. Mer takes comfort in the steady quiet of his presence.

‘So,’ Mer launches in, ‘what happened at Doranda. I guess that’s the place to start.’

They feel John tense at that name, as if the clusterfuck of it all only just happened, as if it wasn’t over 16 Earth years ago. ‘Doranda, huh?’ John’s clearly trying for nonchalant, but his thick voice is missing by a mile.

‘I was so messed up.’ Mer sighs. ‘I nearly killed you.’ Their heart seizes at that thought. If Caldwell had not rescued them, they both would have died that day. And without John Sheppard, this galaxy and the Milky Way could be overrun with Wraith.

‘Both of us. I remember,’ John says evenly, not letting Mer get away with discounting themself. ‘But it was a long time ago.’

‘I didn’t ever talk about why, though. About how screwed up I was about . . .’

‘You and me?’ John asks tentatively. He looks suddenly sad, and grips Mer’s hand a little tighter.

‘Yeah . . . and other stuff. Some trauma from before. The siege. Gall and Abrams. But also . . . Cadman.’ God, that was hard to get out and Mer is breathing a little heavily at the admission.

‘Cadman?’ John’s eyebrows shoot up.

‘I, er . . .’ the words are drying up in Mers’ throat. No matter how much they trust John, the fear of saying this stuff out loud, the shame of it is stifling.

John schools his face from freaked to merely worried. ‘Mer, you can tell me.’ He swaps the hand that’s holding Mer’s and slides an arm round their shoulders, brushing his lips against Mer’s wavy-headed brow. ‘Anything. You can tell me anything.’

God. Here goes. Mer breathes as deeply as they can manage, exhales long and slow.

‘There was a teacher. Mrs Williams. I guess some guys would call me a lucky dog for losing it so young . . .’ God, will John understand that it was bad? So bad, even though it has taken a lifetime to admit it.

‘I was eleven. She paid me attention when I was all alone in a fucked up, miserable world. But I really, really didn’t want to do that and it was pretty terrifying actually and she hurt me and anyway even if I had _liked_ it which I didn’t I was still . . .’

John gets it straight away, eyes widening with a mix of empathy and anger. Waits patiently for Mer to stop babbling to say, ‘Christ Mer, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. God, I didn’t know.’

‘I never told anyone. Not til Martin, just lately, and now you. I think I’d kind of buried it, actually. I don’t recall remembering it, not for years. But it was there all the time, really.’ They sigh. ‘That probably makes no sense whatsoever.’

‘No, it does,’ if anyone is going to get Mer’s ramblings it’s John. He looks kind of heartbroken. ‘Fuck. You’ve carried that all these years alone.’

Mer shivers at the memory and John tenses almost imperceptibly.

‘Do you need not to be touched right now?’ he asks, his arm retreating slightly.

‘No!’ Mer grips John’s hand a little too tightly, ‘God, no. I don’t feel like that with you.’

Mer goes silent for a bit. John settles his arm back over Mer’s shoulder and it soothes something deep inside that has been churning.

‘Fuck. Jesus, we all joked about Cadman like it was nothing. I . . . Mer, I’m so sorry.’

_God, he gets it._

‘I never said. Maybe I didn’t realise. I don’t blame her. I guess from her perspective it was _her_ body, but from mine . . .’ they trail off again. It’s so hard to say this stuff.

‘She did stuff to your body without your consent.’

Bingo. God, sometimes, just sometimes, John comes through with exactly the right words at exactly the right time and Mer is ridiculously grateful for him.

They’re quiet for a long while, Mer just concentrating on getting their breathing and heartrate back from something resembling a sprinter’s hammering gasps.

‘Oh, shit.’ John says suddenly, and he’s holding Mer closer, nuzzling into him with that protective affection that has become all too familiar lately.

‘What?’ Mer breathes, but they know what John just realised, they just aren’t ready to acknowledge it.

‘Why this is coming up for you now. The Genii. Those bastards . . . Mer, I wish you could have told me. Fuck. I’m so sorry.’

‘I can’t explain why I couldn’t. It wasn’t . . . I mean they didn’t . . . but one thing attaches to the next and it all attaches to me feeling entirely worthless and like I’m just a _thing_ to be used.’

John has gone very quiet, and Mer suddenly realises he’s shaking. They turn to look at John and there are tears on his cheeks.

‘God, Mer.’ His voice is cracked all the way through. ‘I made you feel like that, didn’t I? I mean when we first . . .’

‘No!’ Mer hesitates, but really, he needs to be honest now. ‘Well, yes, maybe a little. I mean mostly_ I_ made me feel like that because I didn’t believe that you could . . .’

‘I loved you, Mer. I always loved you. I just couldn’t . . . Fuck. I’m sorry. Fuck. If I could go back and take better care of you . . .’

‘Given my recent performance, I probably wouldn’t have let you.’

They fall silent, John holding on like his life depends on it, breath hitching every now and then. Mer nestles closer into John’s embrace and wonders at all the ridiculous times they didn’t let themself have this when it was _right here. _They inhale John’s scent and let it soothe them. Even John’s obvious distress is reassuring somehow.

Mer realises in the silence that’s fallen between them that this conversation with John is the convergence of pretty much everything, and it’s weird that despite how much better they’ve got at talking over the years, here they are exploring so many things that have gone unsaid.

‘So,’ John says eventually. ‘I guess when Doranda came along you weren’t doing so good, thanks to me and Cadman and a whole bunch of combat stress.’

Mer nods. ‘I was . . . stuck in some bad old patterns, maybe? Scared. Needing love and attention. Needing to push people away, too. Confused about you. About my own feelings.’

John wriggles a little closer and squeezes them a little tighter.

‘I mean, I figured, years later, that some of what went down there was about you and me,’ John says, his voice still gruff. ‘Like I guess you figured out I talked Elizabeth into it because I was stupid in love and really not thinking straight? Just wanting to make you happy overriding my judgement. That it was as much my fault as yours, and I shouldn’t have let you take the fall alone?’

Mer’s mouth drops open. No, they never really considered that John played a part in what happened.

‘Shit, I really never said that, did I?’ John looks sheepish. ‘Mer, I’m sorry about Doranda. It was both of us, and the screwed-up thing we had going on back then.’

Mer takes the hand that isn’t draped across their shoulders and presses their lips to it. ‘Thank you, John, that means a lot. But there’s something else you need to know about back then. John . . .’

God, it’s hard to get the words out.

‘Mer? You’re worrying me.’ John works his hand into Mer’s hair, something that always soothes them. Mer lets the feel of John’s deft fingertips untangle their knotty thoughts.

‘I was a suicide risk, after Doranda,’ they blurt out. ‘And I never told anyone. Thought I’d be sent home. And the thing is, the wraith enzyme overdose, although it was part me wanting and failing to be the big hero, it was also . . .’ They trail off, seeing the stricken look on John’s face.

‘A suicide attempt,’ John finishes the sentence with widening eyes.

‘Yes. I honestly thought what the fuck, dying seemed like a good plan at that point. I could go out in a blaze of glory. And it would all be _over. _Didn’t really work out that way in any respect, of course.’

‘Jesus, Mer. I’m sorry. Crap, I’m saying that a lot tonight. Some friend I was.’ John hangs his head, eyes sad and shamed.

Mer presses closer to John, settling them both. ‘I’m not telling you to make you feel bad. I’m telling you because I kept vital information from you for years, information that might have helped this time round. We should have talked about this stuff, and we need to talk about it now. In therapy, I mean. Because the reason it happened . . . then and now . . . is complicated and there’s no easy fix.’

As they say this, Mer feels an overwhelming sense of despair. They’re ridiculously broken, aren’t they? Just too many things wrong with them, from citrus allergy and over-the-top queerness to all the damage that has happened in their ludicrous life. Once again, they feel the pull of those suicidal feelings that never really went away.

‘You don’t need to be fixed, Mer,’ John nuzzles the side of their head, planting small, careful kisses. ‘You’re perfect. You just need to be safe and loved. You deserve to be safe and loved.’

How is that an answer to something so big and so complicated and messy? Mer wonders. And yet somehow it is.


End file.
